Fly the Nasty Skies
by m klindt
Summary: Lexi meets up with someone on the way home from Survival School. Warning, Solo and Kuryakin not in the story, but talked about


Fly the Nasty Skies

By

M. Klindt

I do not own the MFU characters, but like to play with them while using the ones I created to help them with their adventures. Thanks to those who have lent their names to my stories. This is part of my "Lexi" series.

"_Attention, final boarding call for Paris Air flight 2039 departing Paris, France for New York, New York. Please take your seats, fasten your seatbelts, and have your tray tables in the upright position. We'll be taking off in ten minutes. Thank you." _

Jordan Graff sat down in his assigned first class seat, stored his briefcase in the space by his feet, and then reached for the ends of the fabric belt. With a sigh of relief, he settled down deep into the cushions, and gave a quick nod of greetings to the female passenger by the window sitting next to him, not really looking at her.

As he waited for the plane to take off, he realized how lucky he felt, closed his eyes, and took stock of his life until now. Lucky that THRUSH had left him still alive after the disastrous run in with UNCLE at Hillgate Sanitarium.

THRUSH had lost its new mind-controlling treatment, the hidden clinic in which to condition subjects with, and most of all a heavy financial loss. Not only the funds they provided, but the ones they were to gain from taking over control of some key companies primed for the taking. They were run by two single women that he and his brother were to marry according to his mother.

Jordan had gotten off easy with only a nasty bullet wound to the right abdomen, whereas his brother was shot dead and his mother arrested. Mother G was taken away to an unknown place by UNCLE to rot.

The only thing that saved him was the deal he made with THRUSH Central to find out if UNCLE had a new Section Two agent. Famed UNCLE spy, Illya Kuryakin's girlfriend: Christina Roth, the one whose grandfather willed her Roth Industries.

Jordan didn't have much to go on. Only under extreme torture did the bastard give him many names in which she could be working under. He just had to connect the right ones and then he would find her, right?

However, that proved harder than he imagined, because most of the offered aliases came only with the first name, except for Janice Smyth and Alexana Kuryakin.

Graff had already known about Janice Smyth, but there was nothing about her there except a name and that she worked from one of Roth's labs as a chemist. Thus, began his biggest and most frustrating puzzle to solve in his investigation: Who and where is Alexana Kuryakin? The only concrete thing he knew was that she was already dead.

Jordan groaned, remembering what little information the Soviet Union government was willing to release or admit to when he sought out her life and death in Kiev. The one official who was willing to talk to him mostly denied her involvement as a worker for the state except in the lowest levels of crime investigation. Kuryakin's death was a very public accident with many witnesses watching her body was fished out the river and cremated.

No other explanations were given and Graff was advised not to investigate the subject further. His welcome in the Ukraine was no longer tolerated from that point on.

After taking the hint that he should leave, The TRHUSH agent then went to London and Cambridge. There, they were a bit more open to his questions, but he all he could find out were what classes she took and school activities. Any photographs of her were of poor quality and out of focus.

His last stop before returning to New York was Paris, France. He didn't know it she had been there or not, but decided to see if he could find any traces of her. Illya Kuryakin had gone to Sorbonne there before joining UNCLE. She may have been there with him going to school as well. Again, he didn't find any trace of her name in any of the universities that supported a chemistry program in Paris or the surrounding countryside.

MFU/MFU

As the plane took off, Graff grimaced in anger, not being able to find his prey as the pressure of the plane climbing into the clouds made his ears ache and his head pound. He could hear the sound of his heart beat come in waves and his eardrums vibrated in resistance.

'Enough of this," he shouted silently to himself when the pressure in the cabin finally lessened and he softly kicked his briefcase. 'I'm tired of thinking about you, Alexana and if I don't find you soon, I'm a dead man.'

Jordan pinched his nose and pushed air through it to make his aching ears pop to equalize the pressure in his head and then leaned back into the headrest.

A loud thump of a cloth backpack sounded out and scraped against his leg before it fell to the floor. He looked down to see that the open bag contained college books in different languages. The one on top looked like a chemistry book to him.

Odd, Jordan thought as he gave a sideways glance to the woman in the seat next to his. He hadn't really given her a second look until now. He'd been so lost in his own thoughts over his impending death at the hands of THRUSH to notice her.

The woman, more like a girl, sitting in the seat next to him looked about in her early twenties with dull ash blond hair pulled up in hasty twisted, French braids that circled around her head.

She had a trim body from what he could see of it, in a blue, knit jumper with small white flowers running throughout it. The lacy, gauze top spilled up from the jumper's bodice as the strings that closed it laying loose, exposing the upper curve of her very tan breasts. He smiled hungrily at the sight of her chest when it rose up and down through the parted shirt.

Jordan had forgotten the last time he had stopped and enjoyed looking at a beautiful woman and thought that this may be a good time to think of something or someone else besides the person who haunted his mind and dreams.

He watched this creature slip off her leather clogs and tuck her smooth tawny legs underneath her. Balanced a notepad on her lap, she held a pencil in her hand ready to write.

Looking up, he saw that she was staring out the airplane's window, wistfully gazing out into the white clouds that they were passing by. Then, she turned to look at him. Her eyes were two sapphire blue magnets that made his heart beat even faster. A small sweet smile parted her pink lips while she looked at him.

Realizing that he was staring at her, he cleared his throat and smiled back. There was something about her he couldn't put his finger on.

"Hallo," The creature said softly in a unique accent. It was definitely European, almost bohemian, he thought as his senses drew in a whiff of her intoxicating perfume. "You stare at me. Vhy?"

"Yes… I am and I'm sorry." Graff chuckled at her broken English and extended his hand to her. "It's rude of me. Hello, my name is Jordan Graff."

"Hello," she repeated with uncertainty of the proper pronunciation and put her hand is his. "My name is Alexana Kuryakin or Christina Roth. Whichever of those names you want to use, but I prefer Lexi, Mr. Graff."

Stunned and in shock, Graff looked down at her hand when he felt a needle prick in his palm and then looked back up to her face. It had turned hard and he heard sharpness in her voice when she spoke the last two sentences with a strong Russian accent. Her fingernails dug into his skin.

"Christina…Alexana…Lexi?" Jordan rambled on with a confused voice, and then a funny feeling started to invade his body. "I…don't understand."

"Oh, you will, Mr. Graff," Alexana darkly smiled. "In about five seconds."

"How did you find me," he asked her and shivered.

"Because, I'm a spy," her hushed voice cut through the dullness in his mind. "Now, I want you to get your briefcase from in front of you and open it up for me. Then you will give me any weapons that you may have with you."

Graff did as he was told without hesitation. He had to follow everything she said. In a stupor, he grabbed his briefcase and released its hidden latch so it wouldn't destroy the contents. It held practically everything he had on the person sitting next to him.

After opening his briefcase, he proceeded to pull out his wallet with knock out gas capsules, a small caliber gun made entirely out of plastic with poisonous darts, and a razor sharp nail file out of a hidden breast pocket. His regular gun was checked with his luggage.

'No!' A voice inside him screamed, watched his body move like a robot. He knew what was happening, but couldn't stop it. His mind raced while he tried to plead with his body not to respond to her demands. His mouth was dry as his heart rate raced along with his breaths. A hard swallow threatened to rip his throat open, his eyes looking down at Lexi.

After pulling the papers out of the briefcase and setting down the case between their legs, Jordan felt the cold metal snap and click of handcuffs around each wrist.

"This is to keep you honest, Mr. Graff," Lexi softly purred and then she turned his face to look her directly in the eyes. "We have the whole trip to get settled. Now, before my first in a long line of nasties wears off, I think that we should establish some ground rules. I promise to be fair, but only if you behave yourself. Is it a deal?"

Within the next minute, Jordan's mind began to clear he noticed that Lexi had her hand posed above his arm. She was ready to strike with a syringe this time if he didn't do as he was told. Tugging at the handcuffs, he slightly nodded his head and let out the breath he forgot that he was holding.

"Good," she said with a smile and covered her hands around his as the stewardess began make her rounds in the cabin. "I'll leave you free of my mind altering hypnotics and answer your questions until it's about time to land. Now, smile nicely to the lady and don't try anything funny."

"Is there anything I can get you, sir," the young stewardess asked when she leaned over the seat. She looked back from Graff to Lexi and then back to Graff. "Anything for you, Miss?"

"Yes, I think that we need something to drink. Lexi, a couple of scotch and waters," Graff asked, nodding to Lexi, turned back to smile to the stewardess, and then winked. He felt a slight warning squeeze.

"Whatever you would like, Jordan, will be fine with me." Her accent changed to a slight Boston one spoken in perfect English when she emphasized his first name.

So calm and precise was the change in tone and accent in her voice, it sent his mind reeling. After taking a quick breath in, he turned back to Lexi and gave her another appraising look. Not just for her physical beauty, but one deserving a closer assessment off her unique abilities.

She met his stare full on without blinking or wavering for an entire minute. A thin smile crept to her lips when she finally moved her eyes from him to the stewardess who had brought them their drinks.

The stewardess pulled down Graff's tray table and set the two glasses on them and left. He tried to grab both glasses and was stopped midway by the handcuffs. Not only were they around his wrists, but connected to the armrest that folded down between Lexi and him. A sharp tug told him how far his hands could reach out.

"I would toast to your accomplishments, Lexi, if only I can reach my glass. You thought of everything to make me behave, haven't you," Jordan asked, trying to test his limits.

"I try. It's hard to be safe now days with such a handsome looking man like you work for THRUSH." She said seductively, took their drinks, and handed one of them to him. Graff had to slide down in his seat to be able to take a sip, then looked up at her, and coyly smiled when he sat back up again.

"You know," Graff started the conversation up after he swallowed almost half his drink in one big gulp to give him added courage. "You're a very hard person to find."

"Not that hard, if you found me in the first place." Lexi blushed. She played with the swizzle stick in her drink. "It was sloppy of me taking my friends to the party that night. I thought that there would be enough people around to go unnoticed."

"That's not where we met you the first time," Graff said simply. "My mother saw you at another party the year before and wanted you and your companies then. It was by accident that we met up with you the second time. Then, as if by magic, you were out of our reach. Where did you fly off to?"

"Your mother…yes, Gladys Fairbanks," Lexi said from the memory she had of being only to one other corporate party ever while she ignored his question. "That disagreeable woman hardly gave me a moment's peace if I recall. When I did get away, I snuck out to back, and vowed not to ever go to those parties again. I should've kept my vow. I thought it would be fun and safer with…"

"Your boyfriend, UNCLE agent, Illya Kuryakin and his friends," Graff completed her sentence. "My mother didn't even know who he was until we followed you two home that night. He was a means to find you and then you slipped through her fingers, again. That was when my mother wanted to take control of you even more. You were to marry my brother, you know."

"I'm flattered." Lexi's body stiffened. "But, I'm not one who wants to be controlled that easily. I don't think that your mother and her 'boys' knew what would happen if you had found me and tried to take advantage of me or my companies."

"I agree," Graff agreed in resignation. "I am finding out now and the damage it has already cost my family, me, and THRUSH. I'm not a man who accepts defeat lightly. I've a score to settle with UNCLE and I will collect my revenge!"

"As I've a score to collect from you, Jordan Graff," Lexi said with a razor's edge to her soft, calm voice.

"For what," Graff laughed, no longer hiding his pent up anger. "For roughing up your boyfriend trying get to you? Do you want to hear how I almost broke him for the second time? I would've to if his partner, that shit Napoleon Solo, hadn't gotten in the way? How he told us of your other names while screaming out in agony. Destroying his promise he made to his dearly departed father to save your pathetic mother and now you."

"Enough," Lexi hissed out in warning and Graff felt a slight needle poke on the top of one of his hands. A hot, burning flash of pain ran up his arm. "You'll keep a civil tongue or I will make you. This isn't about Illya or his partner. It's about what you are doing to me right now. By trying to find out who I am and going to the Soviet Union to ask about me when I'm supposed to be dead. You're searching for me when I don't want to be found."

"Are you working with UNCLE or not," Graff asked, demanding a simple answer. "Whether you want to be found out or not is no longer under your control. THRUSH already knows that you exist and we plan to use you to get to UNCLE, especially if we use you to kill UNCLE's top agents, Solo and your sweetheart bastard, Kuryakin."

Just as Graff heatedly whispered that last threat to her, his body began to relax and he couldn't fight off the feeling of calm and light euphoria that encapsulated his mind. He didn't want to feel sedated, but his body betrayed him again and fought his mind for control.

"Damn it, Lexi, what did you give me" he asked weakly, having no strength to shout at her.

"Oh, just relax," her voice was still sharp, but was losing its edge. "It's a mild muscle relaxant and hypnotic. It won't make you follow commands, but it'll make it hard for you to stay angry and strike out. Your muscles should feel loose and giggly by now, but coordinated enough to grab your drink."

Graff took that as a hint. He leaned down in his seat, grabbed the glass, and tossed the rest of liquid down his throat. He lacked his usual finesse, but got the job done. Trying to keep control of his thoughts, he sat back up and frowned in frustration.

"You still haven't answered my question," Jordan said plainly. "Are you a spy for UNCLE or not?"

"I'm glad to see that you've taken my advice and have become more civil." Lexi's eyes sparkled with an evil smirk touching the edge of her lips.

"Like I had a choice? Now tell me, you promised," he pressed further.

"All right, I'm newly and currently employed with UNCLE. There, does that make you happy." She asked and dramatically straightened her shoulders.

"Newly and currently," Jordan took a second to let those two words sink in before he went on. "I know that this is a dumb question, but since you are finally answering my questions, did you work for the Russian government as a spy and chemist?"

"Yes and no," Lexi stated with a snarl of a smile, baring her teeth. "I killed for the KGB, but I wasn't known for my little travel bag of nasties until the very end. I got that talent from my pathetic mother as you so called her. Quite the ingenious person really and brilliant chemist actually, she made me part of what I am today."

"Who made you the other? KGB," he asked with renewed interest.

Jordan wished that he could have his notes back from her to write down what she planned to reveal to him. Seeing the keen interest in his eyes, Lexi shook her head and grabbed his notes. She held them just out of his reach and leafed through the written pages and photos. She stopped at the picture of her and Illya Kuryakin talking at the party twelve weeks earlier and longingly released her breath.

"Not much in here, Jordan," Lexi finally spoke. She looked at his sideways. "Would you like me to fill in some of the blanks?"

"Sure," Jordan felt like a kid who was going to be read his favorite bedtime story and then wondered why this sudden change of heart. "Why are you doing this?"

"Now is not the time to know why. Do you want to hear my life story or not?" She dug the hook in deeper. "This is a onetime deal; no other offers will be made or accepted."

"Fine," he quickly agreed to her rules and waited patiently when she found the first page of his profile of Alexana Kuryakin.

"Well, let's start with the age. I'm the same age as Illya. A few months younger, though."

"Yeah, but THRUSH or the Feds don't have a record of his birthday."

"Sorry, but that's all you get," she laughed and continued on. "I wasn't born in Kiev, but St. Petersburg. Both our fathers were spies against the Nazis and were killed on a mission. Illya, my pathetic mother, and I were sent to a concentration camp in Deutschland to make medicines for their armies until the end of the war. That brings us up to the age of nine or so."

"After the war, what happened," Graff asked softly.

"My pathetic mother was recruited to a special operations unit within the Soviet Union government where she worked on top secret formulas with Illya's only living relative, General Boris Kuryakin. She created a formula to develop subjects into trained assassins with a high affinity for advanced education and killing at an early age."

"Illya and you were part of the test group." Graff finished for her and let out a soft whistle after she nodded.

"After my pathetic mother decided that the program was too dangerous for the children involved, she used her own life to destroy it before the damage was too great and that is why Illya and I couldn't save my poor pathetic mother's life." Lexi's anger bore down on him when she continued to repeat his insult of her mother back to him.

"How old were you then?" Graff asked softly, remembering how cruel life with his mother was and the death of his own father had affected him.

"Twelve." She whispered and then cleared her throat. "The rest of my youth was spent in state-run schools and training groups to further hone my abilities. Later, I was assigned to work for the KGB and traveled to different countries spying and killing as ordered. I was adopted by Boris Kuryakin and made cousins with Illya."

"Cousins in name only," Graff groused, remembering how they looked at each other in the photograph.

He looked back over to Lexi. He flushed with desire when he recalled her look of love in the photo for the UNCLE agent. He wasn't quite sure if it was from the drug she had given him or the information she was telling him about her life. He could see why she was wanted by Illya and his brother, Andy. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, stroke her hair, and kiss those lips. Sensing this, she smiled warmly.

"The rest of the story, Jordan, is that I had fallen in love with working in the decadent west and left the only possible way out for me was death. UNCLE was kind enough to help me with that and offered me a job. I got to be in New York, create my formulas, and work in Section Two. I am not someone who's to be controlled or told what to do by you or your mother."

"Why not work for THRUSH," Graff offered. "We are going to take control of the world eventually and you could gain more power and wealth than ever imaginable."

"I'm already wealthy," Lexi said matter-of-factly.

"You can come with me and we will run THRUSH Central. We both have the training, the skills, and intelligence to succeed. We could crush UNCLE in one swift blow. You don't need them. They believe in law and order. We don't have to play by those rules."

"Jordan, I may not need them, but I chose to be with them. Nothing you could do to me would ever make me turn into an enemy of Illya and Napoleon. I would die before I would betray him."

"Why are you willing to die for that scrawny, little red bastard?" Graff shouted with a new rush of anger, grabbing one of her wrists with his hands, and holding it tightly. He could feel the bones in her slim wrist grind together as his anger rose again. He took pleasure in wanting to see her grimace in pain, but she didn't cry out.

"Because he owns my soul and is my only family." she struggled to calmly say, whipping her other hand around to place it on his and once again, he felt the tiniest of needle pricks.

This time he noticed that she had a solitaire pearl ring on her finger with a small hypodermic projecting from it and dripping with liquid. "But are you willing to kill me before you get the revenge that you so desperately want? I have no problem killing you to protect my new employers and my bastard boyfriend as you so affectionately call him."

"Oh, you'll live to watch me kill your Illya Kuryakin and his partner. Then I'll have you for my own. By force if necessary," Graff promised, his mind began to fight for control.

"We shall see about that, Jordan." Lexi counted down the few seconds with her fingers. "Now, let go of my wrist."

Mechanically, Graff let go of her wrist and waited for the next order. His body trembled in anger and his mind tried to frantically figure out a way to get out from beneath her control. He watched her rub the red marks on her skin he'd left and look out the window. She took a moment to gain her composure.

With a quick shift of position, Lexi jumped to her knees, reached for his head, turned it, and kissed him. His thoughts swirled. He was unable to react to her soft melting lips touching his. His hands pulled at the handcuffs. He could feel her warm, firm body pressed against him and she suggestively leaned into him. It was more than he could handle, because his heart raced and a pleasant, warmth ran throughout his muscular body in response to her touch.

"We'll not talk about revenge and who will die or be controlled by whom anymore," Lexi said softly to him, released her hold on him, and sat back down.

Settling back down, Lexi pulled out her tiny travel pack from the side of her seat and turned around in her hand as if she was trying to decide which one to use next. She then opened it to show him a series of small syringes of varies colors and thicknesses set into two parallel rows.

Jordan noticed one of the syringes were missing as she magically produced it from between her breasts and lovingly put back into its spot.

Her delicate fingers stoked the lining and pushed open a small gap in the material and produced the tiniest of all her syringes with amber fluid. She closed and set her travel kit down, attached the cap of the long, slender needle, and turned towards Graff. "Lower your head Jordan, please."

Still under the influence, he obediently looked down on his lap. Gracefully, with a skill of a doctor, Lexi leaned against him and placed her hands around the back of his neck. He felt one hand massage his spine ridges while her digits firmly explored their shape and form.

Honing in on a certain spot, Lexi left her index finger on the nape of his neck. "Hold very still and do not jump, no matter what you feel."

"Yes." Jordan barely spoke in terror. Then sudden pain of a needle jab hit him. The slow push of the hypodermic into his spine was an excruciating and indescribable as sparks of electrify ran throughout his back and head. He could feel a cold burning sensation when she pushed in the thick liquid.

"No…"

That was all Graff could physically force out of his frozen body that was still in her control. Trembling, a cold wave of calmness entered his mind. Everything stilled in his mind except for the beating of his heart.

Jordan barely realized the needle had been removed until he noticed that Lexi had moved away from him, sat back down, recapped the syringe, and put it back in her special, travel pack.

While Lexi was zipping close her precious little nasties, Graff sat back and tried reach the back of his neck to rub it, but the handcuffs wouldn't let him. No matter how low he scooted down in the seat, he couldn't reach it.

"What did you shoot me up with this time," Jordan growled out and sat back up straighter. "I'm getting tired of being you pin cushion!"

"I know you are, darling," Lexi said almost in an apology before she tucked her travel pack into her cloth backpack. "That was the last one hopefully and the most painful I'm sorry to say. It takes a few minutes before it kicks in."

"Darling, you are going to have to stop using your chemical concoction on me from now on," Jordan said mildly in a threatening, subtle tone and he held his hands out to her in a friendly gesture to her. "From now on, I will tell you who you can use your little nasties on as you call them. Maybe on Mr. Waverly or Mr. Solo once we have gotten rid of lover boy."

"Jordan," Lexi cautiously put only one of her hands in his and relieved that he only squeezed it lightly. He turned her arm to see a near invisible scar where numbers could have been tattooed.

"My nasties may make you scream out it pain, follow any order I give, and even kill you, but they will never make a person delusional as you seem to be. You're in no position to seek revenge on me or UNCLE, especially my Illya. Like him, I like to play with my prey before I kill it."

"Are you going to kill me, Lexi?" Jordan asked softly and traced the questionable scar on her forearm with a whisper of a touch, not able to show the nervousness he was feeling in this deadly game.

"No, I'm not allowed to. That's for THRUSH to do when you don't deliver me to them," she said with a regretful sigh and sad thin smile. She let him easily catch her fingers with his and then looked at his watch. "How do you feel?"

"Never better," Graff smiled darkly. "What's the matter my dear, give me the wrong injection?"

"No," Lexi returned his shrouded stare. "What I gave you was my pathetic mother's very special formula. The one nobody knows about, not even Illya. I only use it on very special people where an easy death is too good for them."

"I feel, oh, so special now. At least I'm guessing that's what I'm supposed to be feeling, right," sarcastically Graff commented. He mind was crystal clear and his body felt like it was now under his control. He was feeling strong and invincible. "So when will I know what you've injected me with is working?"

"When my mother had decided to end her life to stop her lover from destroying the children in the program, especially for Illya and me, she planned to give this drug to Illya, but I stopped her."

"Why is that?" Graff said.

"Because, I didn't want him to be forced into caring too much for me," she grinned, gazing past him, reliving a special memory behind her stormy blue eyes. "I somehow knew that he would do that on his own."

"Is that what you're going to do to me? Force me into caring for you," his hushed voice asked when Lexi made eye contact again.

"Yes, are you ready?"

"But, I don't feel any different." He sighed in disbelief; suddenly getting very sleepy.

"You won't. Mr. Jordan Graff, look at me," her soft rhythmic voice suddenly took a hold of his full attention. "I have a minute to tell you what I want you to do you and then your brain will go through a chemical reaction that will cement those thoughts in your mind until you die. Nothing can alter it or make you believe anything else.

"You will tell THRUSH that Christina Roth doesn't exist. Roth Industries created her to put a face on the company. UNCLE used an actress as a decoy to fool your family into thinking she existed to draw you out. Is that clear, Jordan?"

"Yes. Christina Roth isn't real..."

"As for Alexana Kuryakin, your research only proved that she was indeed killed in an accident in Kiev and that there is no longer a connection to Christina Roth, Janice Smyth, and Alexana."

"No connection," Jordan said, no other thoughts or ideas were present to cloud his mind.

"Lastly, the person next to you, Lexi, is someone you just got to know and shared an enjoyable plane trip from Paris to New York. We will just hold hands and flirt though. Maybe even kiss a little. You will not betray me to THRUSH or anyone. I'm an innocent person you met only in passing."

"In passing; nice body, wonderful blue eyes, and great smell, I could be in love or lust." Graff softly smiled, sat back, and leaned his head against the headrest in a tranquil trance. Gone were any angry feelings or plans for the future, but peace and the need to sleep.

"Yes," Lexi cooed, silently replaced all the papers and photos of her and Illya, except for one, back into Graff's briefcase. That photo, she folded and stuffed into her own backpack.

She clicked the briefcase closed and placed it back under the seat in front of him. Silently, she removed the handcuffs, replaced all of his weapons to his body, and then snuggled close to Graff's side.

"Jordan," Lexi shook his chest lightly with her hand. "You fell asleep on me. Do I bore you that easily?"

"Huh?" Graff woke up with a start and tried to remember where he was and looked down at the mystery girl leaning next to him in the airplane seat. His hands automatically checked to see that his gun and nail file were still in place, dropping his guard in relief. "I'm sorry. I must have been more tired than I thought. What's your name again?"

"Lexi," she laughed out loud and tapped his nose. "I fell asleep as well. It must be that I feel so warm and safe around you. Your shiny, black hair and puppy dog eyes…"

"Enough! Or I will give you a big sloppy kiss," Jordan said he turned towards her, wrapped his arms around her, and proceeded to lick her face.

"Jordan!"

Lexi squealed out. She playfully tried to wiggle out of his grasp and then turned right into a kiss. Both of them stopped struggling and lingered in their embrace.

After a minute, they let go. Each of them trying to recover from the intimate gesture and looked around to see if anyone else on the plane had noticed. With a small blush on her cheeks, Lexi settle back down in the crook of Jordan's arm and started to play with his fingers.

"It's going to be a nice plane trip back to New York," Jordan sighed as he held her warm, tan body to his and looked down at their hands.

"Yes it is."

MFU/MFU

When Monica Alexis Lane, Section Two agent of UNCLE, got to the luggage claim, she got into the nearest phone booth and lifted the handle to dial a certain phone number.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Waverly's office, please," Lexi pleasantly said to the operator while she picked at a piece of chipped paint. "Yes, I'll wait."

"Mr. Waverly, sir…Yes, my mission is complete…No, I took care of him…No, I didn't kill him. I left that up to THRUSH like you requested…I will report in when I get my bags and grab a cab, sir…I understand… that there will be no written report. Lane out."


End file.
